


Unconventional

by areyoukiddingme



Category: Black Books (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Developing Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-12 07:25:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16868653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoukiddingme/pseuds/areyoukiddingme
Summary: "Who's that?" I asked, trusting that Margaret knew London society better than I did."Who?""The distinct one. On his own, not quite dressed correctly.""Oh, him. I do believe he's a Mr Black. A very apt name too as it matches his temper, apparently."~I think that the Victorian era would suit Mr Black very nicely.





	Unconventional

I didn't want to go. This ball was the third I'd attended and the charm beginning to wear off. All I wanted was to have one or two nights off, maybe spend some time reading or actually seeing the sights. All I'd seen so far was my accommodation and dozens of stuffy ballrooms. I'd come to London especially so I could come out in the major capital, but I had expected to have met a man by now. Any man, really, that wasn't over the age of forty or incredibly pompous. At this rate I would have more luck finding a husband in Dorset.

I removed my shawl and entered yet another sweltering ballroom, the candlelight flickering off the walls and the inane chatter of the higher classes filling the room. The moment she saw me, my friend from Dorset rushed up beside me and gripped both of my hands in greeting. I wouldn't have gone all the way to London alone, after all.

"Connie, my dear, how good to see you." She gushed distractedly, looking at the other guests arriving behind me.

"Margaret, you have seen me every night for the past week." I responded.

It was meant to be a light-hearted jest but it came out more sharply than I intended. She didn't seem to notice.

"There's a whole new lineup of men tonight have you noticed?" She pulled me further into the ballroom until we were jostling with various elbows and hips. She pointed over their heads to a group of lads, not much older than myself.

"Mrs Chatterly has invited her son and he invited the rest. Isn't it exciting?"

"I don't believe they're my type." I said, staring at the youths who prodded and poked one another for amusement.

"Is anyone your type?" Margaret rolled her eyes, letting the crowd push us back into a place where we had more room to breathe.

"Yes. I wish to find someone scholarly and kind, not men relying on their father's income." I said in a low tone, knowing that both the sons and their fathers were surrounding us at that very moment.

"You're not likely to meet one of them here." Margaret scoffed, trying to make eye contact with the men who had so far not left their huddle.

"Then what am I doing here?" I mumbled softly, but she didn't hear as she was too busy grasping my hand excitedly as one of the men broke away from the group and started towards us.

We made our formal introductions and I let Margaret be led away by the charming but empty-headed young man to the dance floor. I watched from the side-lines, observing both their dance and the new faces that I hadn't yet come across in London, when one caught my eye.

Margaret left her dancing partner, flushed and breathing heavily. I couldn't tell whether that was the dancing or her partners fault. Taking her hands in mine again, I pointed towards a man who stood out from the rest of the crowd; his hair was mussed and his clothes were slightly lopsided.

"Who's that?" I asked, trusting that she knew London society better than I did. 

"Who?"

"The distinct one. On his own, not quite dressed correctly."

"Oh, him. I do believe he's a Mr Black. A very apt name too as it matches his temper, apparently." She looked to me disapprovingly. "I've been told he hates balls, I wonder why he's deigned to bother with this one." 

I was not put off by her description of him, however, and I continued watching him flounder, making several faux pas on his way to the host. He truly didn't seem to care about any of society's rules. And for some reason I was terribly attracted to that.

"Do you think you could introduce me?" I asked, trying to sound as disinterested as possible.

"I don't really know him that well, but I do know his sister." She hesitated before looking to me apprehensively. "Why do you want to meet him?"

"I merely want to know more of the society we're in." I answered defensively.

"Very well." She said, glancing back at the huddle of young men with regret. "I'll do it, but only as long as you promise to meet the new men with me. And dance with at least one."

"If you introduce me, I'll do anything for you my darling." My words slipped off my tongue with ease as I dragged her away from the new men.

We shuffled back into the crowds of people so that we might spot Mr Black's sister. Elbowing our way through the crowd, we looked out for Miss Black, aimlessly wandering through hordes of people all dressed in their finest.

"Is there anything we should be looking for?" I asked Margaret, just as she bumped into someone.

Margaret and the bumpee squealed in a way that women do when they randomly encounter one of their friends without expecting to. They embraced while I stood by their side, smiling idly; this must be Miss Black.

"... and this is my good friend, Connie. She's from back home in Dorset." Margaret turned back to me, revealing a young woman with dark hair vaguely resembling the man I'd seen earlier in the ballroom. The woman who I presumed to be Miss Black smiled openly and curtsied. I bobbed back, returning the smile.

"Connie here has an interest in your brother. I was wondering if you'd be able to introduce us."

"My brother?" Miss Black repeated, her smile fading.

"Yes."

"He's here?" She asked, her face turning grave.

"Yes. Weren't you aware?" Margaret asked, turning to me with concern.

"No. He told me he wasn't coming." Miss Black tried quickly to regain her composure, all smiles and ease again. "Let me find go and find him for you. I'll be right back."

Once she had gone, Margaret looked to me with amusement mixed with concernation.

"Well, fancy that. She didn't even know he was here."

"I feel bad for causing all of this trouble." I sighed, looking around for Mr Black or his sister.

"It's better she knew he was here."

"I suppose."

We waited, listening to the hum of the crowd and faint echo of music coming from the musicians on the other side of the room. Then two heads of dark hair appeared in the throng of other heads.

"...if you had told me that you were going to show up-"

"-yes, but I hadn't decided-"

"-well you can't just decide when you want to-"

Their voices faded as they approached me and Margaret, Miss Black giving us a forced smile while her brother scowled at the floor.

"Margaret, Connie, this is my brother, Bernard Black."

We all made our introductions, and while we curtsied I saw Miss Black elbow Bernard who promptly bowed.

"Pleasure." Margaret said through thin lips.

Mr Black mumbled something intelligibly in response, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a silver box. He flipped the top off and pulled out a cigarette.

"Oh, Bernard." Miss Black snapped disapprovingly. "Don't smoke. There are ladies present."

"Why should you mind?" Bernard mumbled. "The smoking room is only next door, I'm sure the smoke permeates here as much as there."

"It's not about pedantics." She hissed. "It's manners."

"Manners are a social construct." He leaned back, lighting his cigarette with practiced ease. "What is etiquette here is unseemly abroad. Do you know, in India it is customary to eat with your hands?"

My eyes fixed on his long fingers holding the cigarette to his mouth. When it left his mouth a large plume of smoke passed from his lips. I should be repulsed by his habits, and some small part of me was. The other part of me, however, was fascinated by his inability to understand how other people perceived him when he was being so inexplicably rude and crass.

"Excuse us." Miss Black said, pulling at her brothers elbow, leading him away.

I watched them go, my mouth pulling to one side. I was still undecided as to whether I liked the man or not.

"There? Are you happy?" Margaret asked, through some level of sarcasm. "Come, let's go speak to some normal people."

She started pulling me away, in much the same way that Miss Black pulled away Bernard.

"Preferably eligible men."

* * *

I stood to the side of Margaret, laughing when they all laughed, but not actually listening to the conversation taking place. I was surrounded by young men, all of university age, and therefore believed themselves to be better than everyone else just because they occasionally took some notes and could do an equation that has existed since the ancient Greeks.

Margaret giggled and blushed appropriately and got led onto the dance floor first by an uninteresting youth. I got asked once she had been taken away, and accepted simply for something to do. I danced with the insignificant young man who made meaningless smalltalk. One dance was enough for me, so once the music died down I excused myself and went to stand at the sidelines once again. I saw Margaret engage with another partner and set herself up to dance again.

While I was idle I picked up my fan and fanned myself; I didn't understand how others could dance multiple dances in a row. Perhaps I was particularly unfit, or my corset was laced too tightly, but I always found myself flushed and out of breath after just one dance. Fanning myself lightly, I looked to either side of myself to see my company. I was shocked to find Mr Black standing almost at my shoulder, a glass of wine in his hand and a cigarette lit in the other. I hadn't stood next to him purposefully, and I wondered whether he had graduated towards me or vice versa.

"It's a delightful ball, isn't it Mr Black?" I said over my shoulder, not very loudly and without looking at him directly so he could very well ignore me if he felt like it.

"There's too many people for it to be considered 'delightful'." He replied.

I turned towards him, glad that he had acknowledged me.

"And there's not enough drink." He scoffed, taking a sip from his glass.

"Well, perhaps you should come to a ball in Dorset. At home, there's barely more than five-and-twenty people at every ball, and even then the society is ever-unchanging. You'd like it there."

There was a hint of sarcasm in my tone, but I think he took me seriously.

"I think I would." He nodded, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

"Where do you come from? I can't help but notice your accent." I brought up casually.

"Ireland." He answered me shortly.

"Oh really? How unusual." I ventured. "What's it like in Ireland?"

"It's green."

He was not a man of many words, it appeared. I watched as another dance slowed in front of us, preparing to reach its climax.

"You dance well." He mumbled, but when I looked to him he hid himself behind his wine glass.

"I should hope so. I practice enough." I said, trying to conceal a smile.

Perhaps it was he who sidled up to me. He had been watching me dancing, when I was on the floor, so he couldn't possibly be as disinterested as he appeared. I turned back to the dancers as the song ended, everyone on the floor stopping to clap the musicians politely.

"Would you dance with me?" Bernard asked me disinterestedly.

I turned to him in surprise; without stopping to think about my reputation and what people might say about me, I stupidly accepted. He put out his cigarette, carelessly crushing it underneath his shoe and tapped the shoulder of his neighbor, who just so happened to be an elderly man. He looked to Bernard who shoved his now-empty glass into the old man's hand. While the old man was still looking confused, Mr Black took my arm and led me onto the dance floor with the other couples.

"You're very unconventional, do you know that?" I told him in an undertone as we took our place on the floor.

He chose not to respond as he took my hand and led it upright, his other hand placing itself around my waist, sliding easily across the satin fabric of my bodice. I struggled to maintain easy eye contact with him as I still found him unexplainably attractive, something that I'd never actually suffered from when dancing with a man. Margaret was used to it, and she managed to pass off being flustered so attractively. I had never had such silly emotions, but was now lost facing the man who had his arm around my person and expected me to dance as I had before.

I tried to lose myself in the steps of the dance, which was easy enough as he didn't start any conversation and watching the other couples around us was enough of a distraction for me. Mr Black didn't dance with the grace and ease of one suited to dancing, but he knew the steps very well and which order to perform them in. He lacked the smoothness and informality that was required for a perfect dancer, but he was pleasant to dance with nonetheless.

The music drew to a close and I actually found myself feeling disappointed. There had been times when a dance stretched on forever, but not once had a dance ended too soon. The musicians played the last note and Bernard's hand slipped from my waist. I clapped politely, seeing Bernard pull that silver box from his jacket again while I did so. As I was clapping I looked to the sidelines; several women were staring at me and my dancing parter, I think with disapproval. I couldn't tell whether I felt smug or embarrassed by my choice of partner yet, but when I saw Margaret's eyes on me, her arms still on another man, I suddenly felt very exposed. When I turned back to him to suggest another dance, I already saw him backing away, cigarette in hand.

"I'm sorry." He spoke directly, his eyes flicking up to mine.

"Pardon?"

"I'm sorry." He repeated. "I embarrassed you."

"What? No you didn't." I said quickly, following after him.

He merely nodded at me knowingly, then looked to the women at the sidelines. My eyebrows furrowed as he turned from me, shouldering his way into the crowd of people watching the dancing as he lit his cigarette.

"Mr Black!" I called after him, but only loud enough to not make a scene.

He ignored me, slowly blending into the horde. The music started again and I had to quickly get off of the floor to avoid new dancers now spinning. I made room for myself among the other bystanders, wondering whether I was imagining the eyes on me or not.

When Margaret had finally cycled through eligible men interested in her, she came to join me at the side. There was a terse silence until she spoke.

"Was that Mr Black I saw you dancing with?"

"Was that every man in this ballroom I saw you dancing with?" I retorted snarkily.

"Don't be snide with me."

"Then don't be judgemental with me."

We both side-eyed each other. I saw one of the young men signal Margaret from the other side of the room and she immediately smiled again, looping her arm through mine.

"Come on, let's talk to the eligible men again." She urged me. "Men like Mr Black aren't going to get you very far."

* * *

We stayed at the party until all that was left were the young folk lingering and the hosts reluctanly staying behind to keep us in check. The crowds were greatly decreased and the musicians had gone home. Margaret and Miss Black were flirting with the young men while I stood beside them, my thoughts wandering.

Something caught my attention, and my eyes fixed on the lopsided, shambling figure of Mr Black. He was intoxicated and flopped onto a sofa, much to the chagrin of the hosts who clearly wanted him out. Margaret followed my eyes and pulled me aside briefly.

"What's your interest in him?" She asked in a very low undertone, lest Miss Black hear her.

"I don't know." I answered honestly.

"You like him?"

"I think he's charming."

Margaret let out a short burst of laughter before seeing that I was being utterly serious. We both looked to the drunk man sitting on the chaise, giggling to himself.

"He has character." I defended myself.

"Do you really not fancy Jonathan at all? I think he's interested in you." She glanced over at one of the hosts of the party, a young man who was entertaining three women at once, laughing politely with his eyes glazed over.

"No. Talking to him is rather like talking to his portrait down the hall; you never get an interesting response and if you do it's a tad unsettling."

Margaret sighed dramatically, walking back to Miss Black.

"I think it's time we went home." She said to me over her shoulder.


End file.
